The Alpha And His Omega

4

Nora

Presentation was not merely a vanity for a high-ranking wolf; it was a weapon. As I stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my father’s estate, I adjusted the silk strap of my crimson gown, ensuring it sat perfectly against my skin. The color was intentional—the shade of a kill, the shade of a Luna.

I was the daughter of the Lead Beta. My bloodline was as pure as the mountain snow, and my wolf, a sleek ginger-furred huntress, was as sharp as the heels I currently wore. Since I was a pup, I had been groomed for one purpose: to stand at the right hand of the Alpha Heir. Tristan was mine. Not because of some whim of the Moon Goddess, but because it was the only logical conclusion for a pack of our stature.

"You look like you’re preparing for a siege, not a gala," my father, Beta Silas, said as he leaned against the doorframe. He was a broad-shouldered man with graying temples and eyes that missed nothing.

"In this pack, they are the same thing," I replied, checking my reflection one last time. "Tristan is... distant. More than usual. The pressure from Alpha Deza is mounting, and instead of leaning into me, he’s pulling into himself."

Silas walked over, his heavy hand resting on my shoulder. "He’s a young Alpha with his wolf screaming for a mate. He’s frustrated. Be the calm in his storm, Nora. Remind him that while the Moon Goddess may be silent, I am not. The elders want stability. They want you."

I nodded, though a cold knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. I didn't tell my father about the incident in the hall. I didn't tell him how I had found the future Alpha of the Silver Creek pack standing in a service corridor, looking at a nameless Omega as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

"I know my place, Father. I just need Tristan to remember his."

I left the estate and made my way to the main Pack Manor. The air was crisp, filled with the scents of woodsmoke and the hundreds of wolves who called this territory home. As I walked through the grand entrance, the lower-ranking wolves dipped their heads in respect. That was the natural order. Power recognized power.

I found Tristan near the garden entrance, looking out into the darkness. Even from behind, his silhouette radiated a raw, untamed power that made my wolf stir with a mix of respect and desire. He was magnificent, but he was vibrating with a tension that felt dangerous.

"Tristan? Darling, there you are," I said, my voice dropping into that smooth, melodic tone I had spent years perfecting.

I slid my arm through his, expecting the usual stoic acceptance. Instead, I felt his muscles lock. He was rigid, his gaze fixed on a point in the shadows where a servant had just disappeared.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Everything," he muttered.

He pulled away from me—a subtle movement, but to a wolf of my rank, it was a slap in the face. My wolf bristled, a low growl vibrating in my throat that I forced myself to swallow. He was looking toward the servant's quarters. He was looking at her.

I turned my head just in time to see the girl—a pathetic, waifish thing in a drab gray dress—scramble away into the darkness. I didn't know her name; I didn't need to. She was an Omega, a wolf-less defect who spent her days scrubbing floors. The idea that she could even occupy a second of Tristan’s thoughts was an insult to my entire existence.

"She’s a bit bold for an Omega, isn't she?" I remarked, keeping my voice light and dismissive. "I’ll have a word with Martha. We can't have the help loitering in the main halls, distracting the Alpha Heir with their... clumsiness."

"Don't bother," Tristan said, his voice cold and sharp. "It’s not important."

He walked away toward the gala hall without looking back.

I stayed in the corridor for a moment, the silence ringing in my ears. It was important. I could smell it. The air around Tristan didn't smell like the pack; it smelled like something wild and sweet. It smelled like that girl.

My wolf bared her teeth. Threat, she whispered.

No, I countered internally. Not a threat. An annoyance.

How could a girl who couldn't even summon her own wolf be a threat to me? She was a lesser being. If Tristan was looking at her, it was out of pity, or perhaps a temporary, misplaced curiosity. Men were prone to such things when the pressure of leadership became too much. They looked for something soft to break.

But I wouldn't allow it to escalate. The Silver Creek pack was built on hierarchy, on the strength of the bloodline. An Omega in the Alpha’s bed—or worse, his heart—would be the end of everything we had built. It would be a stain on the legacy I was destined to share.

I smoothed the skirts of my dress and followed Tristan into the hall. The gala was in full swing. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the high-ranking families of the North. Music played, and the scent of expensive wine and roasted meat filled the air. This was my world. This was where I belonged.

I spent the evening moving through the crowd, laughing at the right moments, playing the role of the perfect future Luna. But my eyes never left Tristan. I watched the way he stood by his father, his expression a mask of boredom. I watched the way he avoided the gaze of every eligible female in the room.

And I watched the way his head would occasionally tilt toward the service doors, his nostrils flaring as if he were searching for a scent that didn't belong in this room.

He was looking for the honey and the rain.

By the time the moon reached its apex, my patience had worn thin. I slipped away from the main floor and headed toward the kitchens. I needed to remind the "help" of the boundaries they were so carelessly stepping over.

I found the girl near the wash basins, her back to me. She was small, her shoulders hunched as she worked. She looked exhausted, her hair damp from the steam of the kitchen.

"You," I said, my voice cutting through the clatter of dishes like a knife.

The girl jumped, nearly dropping the plate she was holding. She turned around, her eyes wide with terror as she realized who was standing in her workspace. She dropped into a messy, frantic curtsy.

"Beta Nora! I... I didn't hear you come in. Can I get you something? Some water? Some—"

"Quiet," I commanded, stepping closer. I allowed my aura to flare—just a little. It was enough to make her knees buckle. I saw the way her hands shook. Good. "What is your name, Omega?"

"R-Rena, ma'am."

"Rena." I tasted the name and spat it out. "Listen to me very carefully, Rena. I saw you in the hall with the Alpha Heir tonight. I saw the way you looked at him."

"I didn't mean anything, ma'am! I was just—"

"I don't care what you meant," I snapped, closing the distance until I was inches from her face. I could smell her now—that irritatingly sweet scent. Up close, she was actually pretty, in a fragile, useless sort of way. That made her even more dangerous. "Tristan is the future of this pack. He is a king. You are a maid. You are the dirt beneath his boots, and you would do well to remember that."

I reached out, grabbing a lock of her hair and tugging it just hard enough to make her eyes water.

"If I see you in the main wing again, if I catch you even breathing the same air as him, I will make sure Martha sends you to the outer camps. Do you have any idea what happens to wolf-less Omegas in the winter camps, Rena?"

She shook her head, a tear escaping and rolling down her cheek.

"They freeze," I whispered. "Or they get fed to the scavengers. Stay in the kitchens. Stay in the dark. If you try to step into the light, I will crush you myself."

I let go of her hair and wiped my hand on a silk napkin from a nearby tray as if I had touched something rotting.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," she choked out, her head bowed so low she was looking at my shoes.

"Good."

I turned on my heel and walked out, my heart finally settling into a satisfied rhythm. I had set the boundary. I had marked the territory. Tristan was a man of duty, and eventually, the distraction of a pretty face would fade. He would return to me, because in this world, the Alpha always ended up with the Beta.

The Moon Goddess might be fickle, but I was consistent. And I would let nothing—and no one—stand in the way of my crown